Baby Steps
I’ve stepped away for a bit. If you need to reach me I will be lost somewhere in the foothills of Nostalgia with all the other blubbering mamas and papas. Don’t get me wrong, our house has been full of excitement and anticipation over all the new changes coming our way in the next couple of weeks but… Be still my mama heart! It’s a lot to process that all of these little babies of ours will soon be taking new independent steps.
How is it possible that Cherish is going to be grabbing a set of keys and driving off into the sunset, alone! Jameson will walk through the doors of middle school and master a locker combination, seven classes and attend a pep rally without me showing him where to go? Dakotah has assumed the role of elementary school “big brother” making sure Kellan makes it to his Kindergarten {insert tears here} class okay before he heads off to the big boy 3-5 grade wing. And Presley is going to be one year old tomorrow. We trade in baby bottles and owe him a cupcake and a birthday candle that he can eat all by himself. This has seriously been the fastest year of my life!
We survived middle school open house last night. Despite sweat shop temps, clammy foreheads and a thrashing baby, we still managed to find a locker, which none of us could open at first. After some heart palpatations ensued we had to get our middle school game face on and we popped that sucker right open. Rocky led our ship full of whining sailors through seas of middle schoolers and their ever extended family members swarming the hallways. He weaved us through huddled crowds camped smack dab in the middle of the aisles like a boss. I could barely keep up with his brisk pace and kept asking myself why I was still wearing my damn heels holding a 30 pound turkey baby trying to bite my shoulder.
But suddenly everything went into slow motion. As I trailed behind Jameson staring at the back of his head I could see the fear in his posture and just then the heaviness in my arms sunk down into my heart. He stood so straight up and walked firmly but fearfully forward, his gaze never wavering from straight ahead. He was a sport about it all as we pointed in eight different directions and tried to talk over the masses. We swerved left and right and up and down hallways, in and out of doors. Grabbed syllabuses and introduced ourselves to teachers whose names we might not ever be able to pronounce. He would nod when we’d say “you got it? This makes sense right? It’ll all make sense soon bud.” But his eyes were vacant. His hands were trembling.
At some point Jameson turned directly at me with this fleeting look of fear, panic and anger in his eyes and said “mom, I just want to leave. Let’s just go now. I want to leave.” He commanded to me like if we ran now there’d still be a chance for us. I wanted to grab his hand and run… fast! I knew what he was saying because I felt the same exact way. Yes! Let’s get the hell out of
here! What are we doing to ourselves! This is new. Scary. Unknown. There had to be a shortcut somewhere out of here. If we run fast enough we could still make it back in time to find a warm spot on the couch in our old little townhome where he’d be fast asleep on my chest and I would be smelling baby all over the top of his sweet head. Or maybe a hot air balloon could bring us back to our “no place like home” down to the trail behind our house where I used to push him in a stroller to the park at least two times a day. He’d point in the sky whenever he heard a plane pass overhead and we’d go through the sounds that each animal would make and he’d giggle each time I went “moooo” and “chirp chirp”.
I knew this moment was a lot for all of us. It was real. There was no exit sign and no turning back. It was my job to keep his gaze ahead with strength and conviction even though I wanted to grab his hand and turn around. It was overwhelming and scary but he’d get the hang of it all in no time. I knew in my heart that in a blink he will know this school back to front with his eyes closed. He won’t be sad and afraid. He will keep growing. His voice will deepen and his confidence will abound. This will soon be a distant memory and each step forward will be a tiny step further away from us. That’s a bit too much for me to think about just yet so we’ll just take it one baby step at a time.
